


The Ecstasy of Gold: A Destiel One-Shot

by 1stAmndmntGirl



Series: Team Free Will 2.0 Domestic Ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/female, Destiel - Freeform, Ecstasy - Freeform, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Metallica (the title), One-Shot, Sex, Slash, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1stAmndmntGirl/pseuds/1stAmndmntGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel go to a bar one night, where Dean gets drugged. Instead of being intelligent and returning to the motel, Dean agrees to hook up with the girl who drugged him, but things go awry.<br/>This takes place the night before the season eight finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ecstasy of Gold: A Destiel One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it seems sloppy. I'm still getting the hang of writing how Dean and Castiel would speak, so pardon any grievous character errors and enjoy.

       Ever since that tall, athletic blonde handed him a drink, Dean’s skin had been buzzing. Every bit of him felt electric, from the individual strands of hair on his head to the pads of his fingers. His blood thrummed in his veins, singing a tune too high for him to hear. Somehow, he was refraining from rolling around and feeling everything and everyone. He wanted to press his lips against the blonde’s and imbibe her.  
       Thank God Cas was here, because it was obvious he was drugged. He wasn’t bad enough that they had to leave, but he was definitely far gone enough to appreciate the watchful eye of his angelic babysitter as he made his move on Blondie.  
       “So yeah, he apparently decided that screwing his boss was gonna get him somewhere, but instead, he got fired and kicked out of the house.” Blondie chuckled.  
       Nodding, he simply replied, “Sucks to be him.”  
       Dean could barely pretend to keep up with the conversation. The pulse of the music, the sounds of other voices, and the want—the need to feel was overpowering.  
       Blondie went back to talking, clearly waiting to make her move on Dean when he was surely fucked up. He probably just looked a bit buzzed to her, but that came with the territory of being an ex-vamp (of a day). He knew how to unconsciously control himself and his urges when he needed to. But God, her hair was shiny, and all he wanted to do was slide his bare skin against her mussed crown.  
       He looked over her shoulder, where Castiel was sitting on the barstool. The angel had ordered one of Dean’s favorite brands of beer, and it was funny to see him try to decipher whether or not he truly liked it or he was just pretending. Judging by the contemplative expression, it was still a toss-up. A woman was perched next to him, trying to make conversation, but apparently Cas’ blunt approach wasn’t working in his favor.  
       Turning back to Blondie, it was apparent she was waiting for him to reply to something, and he had no idea what. Shit.  
       Rather than look annoyed, she batted her eyelashes and ran a hand through her short, glossy hair. Smiling at him, she asked, “Hey, wanna ditch trench coat over here and head back to my place?”  
       Dean hadn’t gotten any since he escaped from purgatory, and he needed some love that didn’t come from his right hand. With the crap she had slipped him, his senses were heightened enough for this to be a very interesting experience. Looking to Castiel, he said to Blondie, “Let me just talk to my friend for a minute. I’ll meet you outside?”  
       She nodded and kissed his cheek, her sticky lips softly scraping at his two-day old stubble. Standing, she went to the ladies’ room to primp.  
       Dean scooted over to the barstool next to Castiel and nudged him with an elbow. “What do you think?”  
       Cas’ eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make out the question’s prompt. He looked at the lukewarm beer with its peeled label, and a light bulb appeared over his head. “This beer is not bad, but I like coffee more.”  
       “No man, the chick. Hot, right?”  
       Now Castiel was really confused. “I don’t remember seeing a chicken with a fever.”  
       Why bother? “Cas, I’m gonna go home with that woman I was talking to earlier. Can you just use your angel mojo to zap you back to the hotel with Sam?”  
       “Why are you going home with her?”  
       Thisclose to groaning with high impatience, Dean slowly replied, “Because I’m going to have sex with her.”  
       “Oh. Well I cannot leave you alone, Dean. You’re compromised, and Sam made me promise.”  
       Muttering under his breath, the hunter uncharacteristically replied, “In twenty minutes, I won’t be the only compromised thing around here.”  
       Rather than ask what that meant, Castiel shook his head firmly. “I cannot let you go alone. You have to come back to the motel with me, or I can come with you.”  
       Dilated eyes narrowing, Dean replied, “No, you’re not coming with me.”  
       Traveling with the Winchesters had shown the angel a new form of communication: the “Bitch Face”. Castiel mimicked what he had seen Dean and Sam do a thousand times, and he held it.  
       Dean responded in kind, but after a minute, the drug ruined his concentration, so he sighed heavily and said, “Fine, but you have to make yourself invisible, and you aren’t allowed to come into the bedroom unless I’m dying.”  
\- - -  
       A half hour later, Blondie walked backwards up the stairs, leading Dean by the mouth. She had had a few shots of whiskey, so her mouth tasted warm, tinged with the tiniest bit of alcohol. When she backed into a door, she clumsily opened it and dragged him inside, flipping on a switch as their hands groped and grasped at one another.  
       Ripping away, Blondie panted with a satisfied smile on her lipstick-stained face. “Oh, you’re going to be fun, baby.”  
       Dean laughed and came for her again, and their lips locked, teeth clicking. She was a messy kisser, but he didn’t give two damns. She was willing, and she seemed able. She wrapped one long leg around his back and ground against him like she was a professional stripper and he was a pole. Emitting a grunt at the sensation, he bit her lip and sucked it gently, releasing it only to catch it again. She swore softly and dug one hand into his hair, mussing it.  
       He backed her into a wall, and started working on her neck. Between mewls, she murmured, “So what are you into, baby?”  
       “Whatever you want.” He replied.  
       Practically purring in satisfaction, she whispered, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. How do you feel about lingerie?”  
       Dean pressed his pelvis against her soft belly, showing her exactly how he felt about lingerie.  
       As he stuck one hand up her shimmery dress and dragged a calloused thumb along the crease in her hip, she laughed out a moan. “I am so fucking turned on right now. But you know what would really get me going? Getting you in my panties.”  
       “I like the sound of that.” He replied into her neck, his skin buzzing at the contact.  
       She moaned and rolled her head back, “I love a man in lingerie.”  
       Yanking his head back in surprise, he asked, “Uh, what?”  
       Blondie stuck one hand down the front of his pants, caressing him deftly. “I love seeing a man confident enough to wear lingerie, and your body’s hot enough to pull it off.”  
       “That’s not my scene.” Dean replied, kissing her again. “You can wear the lingerie, though.”  
       She squeezed his considerable length and grazed a fingernail across the slit—his fucking favorite thing, especially now—and breathed up into his ear, “If you wear lingerie, I’ll let you do anything.”  
       His eyes wide, Dean looked at her. “Anything?”  
       “Anything, anywhere. You have the entire night to ruin me.” Blondie grinned seductively.  
       Whether it was the offer or the drugs, Dean barely had to mull it over before Blondie stripped him down and he was pulling on pink satiny panties with black lace trim, and rolling on the hose to go with them. Once he was able to get the garters strapped on, he stood in awe of what he was willing to do to get laid these days.  
       God, I hope Sam never finds out about this, he prayed.  
       The panties were a bit tight, as they were meant for a woman without an erection. Even though the nylons were stretched pretty well around his upper thighs, they still fit, and he had to say that his legs looked damn good in pantyhose. She didn’t have any shoes that fit, but judging by the way she massaged herself the entire time he dressed, she didn’t really care. And since he had a great view of the sensitive pink flesh between her legs as she slid two fingers in and out of her, he didn’t care either.  
       “Okay, how do I look?”  
       Instead of replying, Blondie whimpered. Dean couldn’t take the teasing much longer, and he knelt before her, diving his face between her legs. A few laps with his tongue and some gnawing sent her over, crying out and clutching at his hair. He hadn’t even realized she was that close.  
       Rather than stop, he speared his tongue in deeper and shifted her body so her legs were over his shoulders, and he was unable to breathe anything but her scent. Using his nose to nuzzle her sensitive clit, Dean worked her back up as she quaked and moaned, grinning to himself as she grew more vocal. He traced her folds lightly and then zigzagged his tongue over the inside of her. The hunter’s thumbs massaged her inner thighs, pressing harder each time she bucked.  
       Taking his teeth and nibbling on her inner folds, Dean nudged her just over the edge, sending her crying and crashing down, her hips almost violently grinding against his face. He moved to her nub and rolled it back and forth between his teeth and his tongue, letting it go with a flick. She was soaking wet, shivering, and tasted faintly of sweet cranberry. This high was pushing him to devour her, to make her shriek his name until she lost her voice. He was so hard it hurt.  
       Instead of allowing him to push on, Blondie shoved him back and fell to the bed, gasping for air and grasping her stomach. He waited for her to give the go-ahead to make another move, but she instead shakily stood, covering her mouth, and stumbled to the bathroom.  
       Ten minutes passed without a sound, so Dean impatiently knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked louder, and still received no reply. Feeling it was appropriate to open it at this point, he found Blondie passed out on the floor before the toilet in her shimmery mini-dress.  
       “Oh Goddamnit.” Dean cursed, disappointed. How was he going to break this to his dick? At least Cas isn’t here to see this mess, he thought.  
       Making a move to pick the sleeping girl up and put her in bed, Dean was shocked and mortified to hear, “Hello Dean. What is that you’re wearing?”  
       Speak of the Devil’s brother. Spinning quickly, face flaming, Dean spotted Castiel in the doorway of the bathroom, curiously examining Dean’s panties. The look in his cerulean eyes was interest, a bit more than polite in nature.  
       “Damnit Castiel, get out!”  
       Eyes directly on Dean’s junk, Cas replied, “Panties? I thought women wore those. You called for me, right?”  
       Dean groaned, unbearably embarrassed by the fact that he was caught both wearing Blondie’s lingerie and sporting one hell of a hard on, even with Castiel watching. Especially with Castiel watching.  
       What? He ran his hands over his face to cover his shame, and it felt amazing. Annoyed with this, he stormed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.  
       Whatever this drug was, it was peaking. Every fiber of his being needed to be touched, to be caressed, to fuck someone senseless. His flesh was itching for contact.  
       “No Cas, I didn’t.” he stated as he brought his hands down his face to his shoulders and chest, the skin he touched practically glowing with need. It was like a bug bite: it worsened when you scratched the itch.  
       “Oh. Well, do you want me to leave?”  
       Dean’s uncooperative hands dropped to his bared nipples and grazed lightly, unable to help himself. His voice pitched lower than the angel’s as that contact sent him to his knees in pleasure, the dainty fabric covering his hardness straining.  
       A firm grip picked him back up, and Castiel looked him over, trying to figure out what was happening. Dean’s skin burned where Cas touched it, and he couldn’t contain the small pelvic thrust thrown the other man’s way. He was completely out of control.  
       “Dean, what can I do?”  
       Unable to resist, Dean rubbed himself against the angel’s body and threw his head back in unwanted pleasure. “Fuck it! Touch me, Cas. Touch me! Damnit, you have to touch me.”  
       Looking at his hands on the hunter’s bicep in confusion, Castiel replied, “I am.”  
       Grabbing Castiel’s hands, Dean placed one on his chest and the other on the satiny pink panties. “Touch me.” He growled.  
       “How?”  
       A light bulb went off in Dean’s mind, and he replied, “Like the pizza man and the babysitter.”  
       “But—”  
       Snarling, Dean gripped Castiel’s jaw and kissed him, hard. He bit his lip and dragged it into his mouth, where he used his tongue to slide across the angel’s teeth, coaxing. Castiel remained where he was, unsure of how to proceed, as this wasn’t Dean talking.  
       “Cas, I don’t care about tomorrow, or the day after. I don’t care where we stand. I don’t care that we’re going after Crowley tomorrow. If you don’t touch me, I will fucking die.”  
       Morality shoved aside, this was something he could comprehend, and Castiel gripped Dean tight, using the heel of his palm to knead him. Dean gasped as the angel’s firm grip on his length sent sparks rushing through his bloodstream.  
       “Yes.” Dean murmured as he mashed his lips back to Castiel’s, and started shoving off the trench coat and undoing the tie simultaneously.  
       Even though Castiel was pulling on him, Dean couldn’t help but grind against him, the satin of the panties dotted with his fluid. He felt so slutty, so unlike himself that it was almost as if he was a different person, and this wasn’t weird.  
       “Cas.” He moaned into his friend’s mouth, shocked and turned on to find that Castiel was apparently as into this as he was. Castiel groped clumsily against the soft fabric, his vessel experiencing strange sensations below the belt that he was beginning to like.  
       Dean was able to unbutton Castiel’s shirt and pushed it off, forcing his slacks down as soon as he was able. He couldn’t wait for this, and he knew it was going to get filthy.  
       “Cas, get on your knees.”  
       Doing as he was told, the angel released his hunter’s mouth and knelt before him. Understanding vaguely what Dean wanted, he put his mouth over the bulge in the panties, instantly shocking his friend into grasping his hair with both hands and yanking so hard he ripped some out.  
       Unsure of the specifics, Castiel laved the soft fabric, his tongue tracing the shape of Dean’s length. His hands held Dean’s thighs, and he used his grace to slowly extinguish the poison within his friend, unbeknownst to Dean.  
       Dean clutched Castiel’s head and groaned like a whore, his breath coming in uneven, short pants. He cursed, begged, prayed, and rambled as that tongue flicked gently over the shape of his head, sucking it through the fabric. The hands on his thighs lit him aflame and pushed him close to the edge.  
       Whatever he was on, his body was arching and singing for Castiel’s fumbling touch. He wanted more, he wanted it all. He wanted to feel him everywhere as he rose. Unable to help himself, he cried, “Cas!” His voice broke and trembled as much as his body. He had to push this forward.  
       “Up, Cas. Up.” He managed, yanking Castiel up as he himself sank to his nylon-clad knees. Wrestling open the angel’s slacks, he shoved them down and hastily removed them along with his shoes and socks, leaving him bare.  
       Without thinking or practice, he was left to go off what he liked. Doing this, Dean licked from the balls to the underside, and from there to the tip. At the tip, he brought his lips down and over the velvety flesh, bracing himself by grasping Castiel’s firm rear. He dug his fingers in and went all the way to the base—or at least most of the way before his eyes watered and he remembered that he had a gag reflex.  
       Cas tilted his head back and cursed, his eyes crossing as he tried to remain standing. He had never felt anything like this before: the suction gentle and then fierce, the nails on Dean’s hands cutting into him, the kittenish tongue teasing him terribly. It was too much, and he needed to let go. His hands rested on Dean’s head and shoulders, alternating, although he preferred to grip Dean’s soft, dirty blond hair. He was still slowly purifying Dean, little by little. It was selfish of him to do it this way, but he thought that if the poison no longer infected Dean, this pleasure would cease.  
       Dean bobbed on Castiel’s rod, growing comfortable enough to venture further down towards the base. One gag reflex reminder later, he pulled Cas out of his mouth, regretful and surprised. “Cas, man, I need you to fuck me. I have to have you fuck me.” He pleaded from his knees. If he didn’t fuck or get fucked, he would go insane.  
       Castiel looked down, those sapphire eyes meeting emeralds, and nodded wearily.  
       Dean almost sobbed in relief. “Lay down on the bed.” He ordered.  
       Castiel walked over and lay down on his back, watching as Dean rifled through Blondie’s drawers until he found what he was looking for. “Aha!” he claimed, clutching a small clear bottle. He poured a good amount of the liquid into his hand and grasped the angel’s length, slicking it up well before he drizzled more liquid onto his fingers and reaching behind him, brought them into him, one by one.  
       It was obviously uncomfortable, but Dean was still moaning, even as one finger became two, two became three, and three pushed him to become a writhing mess, panting and rubbing his clothed erection with the heel of one hand shamelessly. He grunted and groaned as the discomfort lessened and pleasure took over.  
       This took about two minutes, but Castiel’s hardness didn’t ease in the least bit. Watching Dean work himself was probably the highlight of this adventure, in terms of visual stimulation.  
       Apparently ready, Dean added more lube to Castiel’s length, and crawled onto his lap, straddling him. “Are you ready, Cas?”  
       Rather than reply, Castiel kissed him hard, drawing blood as their lips got pinched between their teeth. Dean took that as an affirmative, and after moving his panties aside, lowered himself down on Cas slowly, hissing all the while.  
       Cas’s face pulled back, and he gasped for air like a dying fish, unable to understand the tightness that enveloped him. It was so wet, so hot, so vice-like. He was ignited, and unable to control his grace as he cleaned out Dean’s blood. It was happening a lot faster now, but Dean said nothing.  
       In fact, Dean was too busy pushing through the pain of his first anal experience to care. It was uncomfortable, it was tight, and it felt really weird. He paused for a second to catch his breath, and when he went to pull off Castiel’s lap, the friction explained why so many people were into it. His partner noticed his sharp intake of breath, but neither said anything.  
       He pushed back down on Castiel’s dick, and dug his nails into his chest, drawing blood across the angel expulsion scar. If Cas minded, he didn’t mention it.  
       In fact, he gripped Dean’s hips and started pistoning him gently on his length. Dean picked up the pace and crashed himself down hard, drawing a powerful moan from both men.  
       Grinding down with each pass, Dean’s pace became frenzied and less focused as he and Castiel carried on slightly different rhythms. Castiel bucked up and into him, forcing his upper body to fall forwards and hold on to Castiel’s chest for dear life. He heard whimpers, and it took him a minute to realize they were coming from his mouth.  
       Castiel’s hair was pasted to his forehead from exertion, so Dean leaned closer and brushed it out of the way, his lips mashing and molding to the angel’s as he rode. Muttering into his mouth, Cas panted, “Those—panties—are so—sexy—on you.”  
       Realizing he had taught Cas the words “panties” and “sexy”, and that Cas’s first use of them was in regards to him, Dean grinned madly and swiveled a hip as he came down, hitting something that made his skin jump as if electrified. He cried out and lost his balance, bottoming out on Castiel.  
       Dean’s back arched and Castiel leaned up, meeting Dean when he came back. Their lips mashed and their tongues danced and teased. Dean was no longer humming or buzzing as strongly as before, and he chased after it. His hands clutched at Castiel’s shoulder and the back of his neck, the warmth and purity of Cas’s true form reaching out to him. It was so intensely erotic he couldn’t bear it.  
       The angel, so deeply buried in Dean that he couldn’t have given a logical answer to literally anything at that point, panted and gasped against the hunter’s skin, pulling away to bite on the shoulder opposite his handprint. He bit down hard, teeth slicing through flesh and muscle, his mouth filling up with blood, shocking him. When he pulled back, he could taste the ringing of Dean’s blood, the poison calling out to him. Dean only rocked against him and captured his mouth as his own, not minding a bit of blood.  
       Dean’s dick was untouched, but not abandoned. The friction between their bodies rubbed against the wet satin, soft and sensual against his heated skin. He gasped and cursed into Castiel’s bloody mouth, his bleeding shoulder a distant throb of annoyance. He rose all the way up and hung there for a minute, taunting Castiel’s very recent impatience.  
       Cas swore uncharacteristically and bucked up, knocking Dean down and back into rhythm. He needed to let go, and he knew the only way to do it was to get Dean to. His face was flushed, dirty blond hair a mess, and lips swollen and raw. Castiel found he liked this Dean.  
       “I’m so close, Cas. Just a little bit more.” Dean begged, as if reading Castiel’s mind.  
       No longer in control of his grace, Castiel sucked out all of the poison in one long draw as he groaned, fighting to hold on longer. He reached down and clasped Dean’s length, the oozing head giving him enough lubrication to twist and make his partner cry out.  
       Gripping Castiel’s thighs as he rocked and rode, Dean ignored the Charlie horses in his thighs and calves, needing to come more than anything. He needed to come before he took his next breath, and he needed Castiel to come with him. He buried his face in Cas’s neck as Cas touched him, gently pulling and twisting him as he writhed in his lap, tears of frustration welling up behind his eyelids.  
       “D—Dean, oh.” Castiel whimpered, barely able to keep it together. He prayed that he could hold on, but it was probably in vain.  
       Dean swiveled again and found that spot, pushing him over the edge. He crashed hard, a panting, desperate mess. “Fuck!” he shouted, his voice cracking.  
       His body locked as he came in those satin panties, his come soaking the fabric and dripping out of the sides and onto Cas’s pelvis. Castiel’s hand was still wrapped around him, his thumb grazing the tip.  
       Castiel felt Dean’s shudder as his frame went rigid, and he followed close behind, letting go and seeing stars. His breath was hot and his breathing haggard against the hunter’s sweaty skin, his lower body jerking up as he cried out Dean’s name. His hand locked around Dean’s length and the other on his lower back, drawing him closer to him.  
       They rode it out, Dean ‘s fingers locked on Cas’s thighs in a death grip, and Castiel pulling him as close as possible. When the world stopped spinning, Dean drew away, sated, yet uncomfortably aware that he was no longer high, and that he had his best friend’s—the angel—dick in his ass. That wasn’t as uncomfortable as the fact that he liked it.  
       He panted, trying to stretch his legs, but he couldn’t even move. “Uh, little help here, man?”  
       Castiel brought his face up, his blue eyes glowing amid his flushed skin, and he nodded, lifting Dean and gently laying him down on his back. Dean winced as his rear touched the bed, his endorphins fading to reveal the pain he was going to be in for the next day or so.  
       Silence overtook them as they stretched out their muscles and contemplated their next moves.  
       Cas spoke first, sitting up to look down on Dean. “So that’s what sex feels like to humans.”  
       Dean couldn’t think of a reply other than, “That was better than your average ride, but yeah.”  
       “How do you feel? I sucked the poison out.”  
       Dean scrubbed his hair with his hands as he thought of Castiel’s hot mouth against his panties, tongue tracing and etching into the material. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Uh, better. Sane.”  
       “Was that like when I was under Famine’s control?” Castiel asked casually.  
       Bobbing his head in affirmation, Dean sat up and looked himself over. He was covered in blood, sweat, and come. His shoulder ached like he’d been shot, and he was still oozing a good amount of blood. Plus, there was that whole wearing-lingerie-thing. “Uh, Cas? I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Sam about any of this.”  
       “You don’t want him to know we made love?”  
       Cringing at that term, Dean responded, “No. Sam doesn’t need to know. If you wanna get technical, we fucked.”  
       Castiel’s head cocked and his eyes narrowed in thought. “Oh. Well, I would like to do it again.”  
       Unable to lie to a mind-reader, Dean hung his head in his hands and said, “Me too, but this is new territory, and I’ve got to think a few things over before we even approach that.”  
       “Alright. And we don’t tell Sam?”  
       Thankful that Castiel took words at face value and didn’t draw emotional assumptions from the spaces in between, Dean nodded and stated flatly, “No, we don’t tell Sam.”  
       From the bathroom, they heard a rustle, and then retching, amplified by the tile floor and walls. “Oh shit, I forgot about Blondie!” Dean cursed.


End file.
